The Slave Knight and the Ringed Knight
by FluffPuffCat
Summary: Gael finds a similar person wandering the ashen landscape.


The ashen wastes stretched on endlessly. With every step Gael took, he could feel his body growing heavier. Something was growing inside him. Whatever it was, it saturated his blood and filled him with a tenacious strength. Even throughout all the kingdoms and ages that had come and passed, he alone walked on. His resilience, his determination to find the Dark Soul – the pigment that his lady needed to create her Painted World – gave him the will to live on without turning Hollow.

He, alone, had seen the end of all things.

A dry wind blew, sending swirling ash and sand through the air. Little bits of it got stuck in his beard, and some struck his eyes. By now, he had been travelling this barren landscape in search of the Pygmies for so long that he didn't even care anymore. He didn't care how his armour rusted, or how his own body decayed and disintegrated. All he cared about was finding the Dark Soul. He knew it had to exist somewhere. His search for it had led him to the Ringed City, but after scouring the entire city, he couldn't find a trace of the Pygmies anywhere.

So, instead, he resolved to kill everything. He had been hoping to find the source of the Dark Soul, an enormous amalgamation of souls so tainted with Dark that it could create the pigment for his lady's painting all by itself. But if no such source existed, then he could try to accumulate the Dark Soul within himself by killing and eating everything that contained Dark. And, in the Ringed City, there was no shortage of such things. He hunted the locusts and the ringed knights to consume their corpses. He slew the Harald Legion and sucked the Dark out of their void-heads dry. He spared no mercy, either, for the giant Judicators that summoned up the spirits of the past to strike him down. And when he finally discovered the remaining descendants of the Pygmies, whose souls weren't as saturated with Dark as he had hoped, he slaughtered them all with both sword and teeth.

He had hunted everything for so long that he had seen the entire Ringed City become buried in a mountain of corpses, which then disintegrated into ash, and gradually the ash piled up so high that no trace of the Ringed City could be seen anymore, except for the peak of the mausoleum where the youngest daughter of Gwyn, Filianore, was presumed to rest. He would have gone after her, too, but some barrier enacted by the Spears of the Church had prevented him from entering the mausoleum. And, being a daughter of Gwyn, Filianore probably didn't carry much Dark in her soul anyway.

In the distance, he could see the peaks of Lothric and Anor Londo. They were the last surviving cities of the Age of Fire. Soon, they would also become buried in ash. In time, no trace of the Age of Fire would remain. The world would return to ash, to the grey and lifeless state, where no Light or Dark existed. Where there was no disparity. But perhaps even in this grey world, there would still be a painting, a snowy Painted World that would make someone a goodly home. He had vowed to find the pigment for his lady, and this vow carried him through all the eternities that had passed. If the pigment didn't exist, he would have to bring the blood of the Dark Soul itself back to her.

If she was still alive.

The wind blew again, sending a tornado of ash through the air. Gael walked through the tornado, unnerved by the heaps of ash that were being dumped upon him. When the ash cleared, he saw a strange thing in the distance. There was a Ringed Knight walking upon the ash dunes. The knight carried two massive greatswords and walked around aimlessly.

Gael ran towards the knight. The knight turned towards him and pointed both greatswords forward and charged. Gael leaped out of the way and raised his own greatsword. He could feel the Dark Soul forming within his blood empowering him, making him stronger and capable of inhuman feats. He lunged at the knight, sword pointed straight at the circle on the knight's chest. But, to his surprise, the knight sidestepped out of the way. The knight brought both greatswords together, pairing them into one, and a burning heat glowed over the swords' blade. Gael was momentarily stunned. He hadn't seen the power of ember in a long time. And he was sure that he had slain the last Ringed Knight an eternity ago. What was this one still doing here?

The knight swung the paired swords forward, unleashing an arc of fire that struck Gael square in his chest and sent him flying back into the sand. The fire burned Gael's rusted armour and scorched his red hood. He hadn't felt such a physically painful sensation in a long time. When he shook the ash out of his eyes, he saw the knight charging at him again. This time, the knight leaped into the air, somersaulting and slamming the fiery blade down onto Gael's head.

With a burst of speed, Gael raised his hand and managed to deflect the blow with his own greatsword. The heat from the paired greatswords singed his beard and skin, causing him to feel pinpricks of pain. He jumped back onto his feet and darted backwards. The knight backed off as well. For a second, they stood upon the ash, staring at each other. A slave knight and a ringed knight. The wind blew again, and the grey tornado that formed from it nearly obscured the ringed knight from Gael's sight. But Gael could still see the embers burning on the knight's two blades. The heat from them was almost comforting.

The Ringed Knight turned away for a short moment. But when Gael took a step forward, the knight spun around and pointed both greatswords at him again. Gael stopped in his tracks.

"You," Gael said, cautiously stepping towards the Ringed Knight. "Why are you still here?"

The knight didn't respond and charged. Gael dodged the blow, but was nearly caught off guard again when the knight turned their body and swept both swords through the air. Gael took a step away, and the knight leapt forward. Again, Gael dodged the blow, but he didn't strike back. The pain that the heat from those swords had inflicted upon him had made him feel almost nostalgic. For some reason, he didn't want that fire to die.

"You," Gael repeated. "Why do you remain?"

Just for a second, the knight looked hesitant to attack again. Gael had backed far enough away that the knight wouldn't be able to reach him with a single charge, even if those greatswords were massive. The knight raised one of the swords and slashed the air, once, then twice. Then, the knight finally began to back off as well.

The knight opened its mouth. For a while, only a few gargling sounds came out. But Gael had a feeling that the knight was trying to say something. He took a step forward, then another, when he saw that the knight didn't attack him. Now, they were close enough that they could strike each other with a single charge. But, to his surprise, the knight kept trying to speak.

At last, Gael began to hear words form from the knight's voice.

"Pro...tect...my la..dy..."

Gael froze.

"Pro..tect...the chur..ch..."

"Protect...Filia..nore..."

Then, without hesitation, the knight charged forward at him again.

Gael had been so frozen in shock that he almost didn't see the attack coming. He only snapped out of his shock when he felt the tremendous, searing heat of the knight's blades drawing near, and then he leaped out of the way. Gael raised his own greatsword into the air, preparing to strike back, but something was stopping him. Something, deep in the depths of his soul, deeper than the Dark that was slowly churning and tainting his blood, urged him to restrain his attack. As the knight charged again, fire glowing over the paired greatswords, Gael jumped away.

He wasn't alone, after all.

Another person had survived the end of ages through their sheer will to protect someone. Even when the walls of the Ringed City had collapsed and become buried under a mountain of ash, this knight had remained, bound to survive by their duty to protect the church. To protect the princess, Filianore.

The two of them were no different.

Gael trudged through the ash. He knew that he still had his own goal to fulfill, and that the next time he saw that Ringed Knight, they would be enemies again. But, for the moment, he chose not to fight. He had not believed that there could be anyone else so bound to their duty that they had also survived to see the end of ages. Such a person no doubt had a powerful will – a strength so fueled by determination that they would fight until their very last breath. If they were to clash again, Gael would have to fight with all his might if he wanted to win.

He still had his own goal to accomplish. To find the Dark Soul, the pigment for his lady's painting.

As he walked through the ash, he spotted something crawling on the ground, a crown upon their head. It was one of the descendant Pygmies. Easy prey, and a soul rich with Dark. Just the type of soul that Gael would rather consume to fuel the Dark growing within his blood.

Gael unsheathed his greatsword and charged.


End file.
